


Mayday (We're Going Down)

by 200percent_inlove



Category: K-pop, Red Velvet (K-pop Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Love, Love/Hate, Partners to Lovers, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24301546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/200percent_inlove/pseuds/200percent_inlove
Summary: Agent Jeon Jung-Kook's foiled the largest illegal drug trade in Seoul history. He knows how to operate AK-47s without recoiling. He has the capability of implanting viruses into any computer to steal data within five seconds. He was part of the elite squad that saved the prime minister's life -But all that means absolutelynothingwhen he's asked to watch over a headstrong, defiant (and somehow,stillobnoxiously cute) rookie that gives him a lot more trouble than he anticipates.Secret agents/surveillance AU.
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Kim Yerim | Yeri
Comments: 17
Kudos: 29





	1. JK.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, it's been a while, so I hope you all have been doing well. 
> 
> In light of current events, I just wanted to make use of my small platform to give some attention to the Black Lives Matter movement. I've been fortunate enough my entire life to have had little encounters with racism, but this is a giant privilege that not many have. Many others have unfortunately lost their lives for - simply due to skin colour. I may never understand the full extent of the monstrosities that have negatively impacted the well-being and lives of Black individuals, please know that I - alongside many others - am with you. We are standing with you. And I'm doing my very best to educate myself and others so that we all become better allies to help protect the oppressed community by actively listening to what they have to say, and in turn, using our voices to speak up against such injustice.
> 
> For more information, please visit the following Twitter threads/carrds:
> 
> blacklivesmatter.carrd.co  
> https://thetimeisnow.carrd.co/
> 
> https://twitter.com/vriochette/status/1269364756626001925  
> https://twitter.com/esmeatgrlpwr/status/1267771312107331584
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bCgLa25fDHM (!!! This is particularly helpful if you wish to help out to donate, but are unable to)
> 
> That being said, this is only a small list of resources/guides that have been put together by others. Please, do your part, educate yourself, do your research and use your voice to speak up. If any of you are partaking in the demonstrations, please remember to stay safe - and thank you so much. <3

At 07:00:00, agency headquarters – on a Monday morning as well, with all things considered – _should_ be bustling with busyness and activity.

Jung Ho-Seok, for example, _should_ be walking around the training grounds, mentally selecting which talented trainees among the two hundred and fifty hard-working candidates show the greatest potential in joining B.T.S. immediately upon academy graduation.

Kim Tae-Hyung, on the other hand, _should_ be ~~flirting unsuccessfully/wasting his time on Thought Catalog/~~ brainstorming all the possible wiles and ways on how to approach the steely-eyed, icy Bae Joo-Hyun of R.V.-S for a potential ‘casual outing of her choice’ –

(“Just say _date_ , Tae. We _all_ know you want to ask her on a fucking date.”).

While the stern, sullen Min Yoongi _should_ be rightfully telling off the younger, enamoured man for daydreaming, making use of his talent in multitasking to crack through the underground drug cartel's encrypted data simultaneously.

Kim Seokjin - M.D., Ph.D., and self-proclaimed W.W.H. ("Hey. Seokjin- _oppa_ , what does it stand for again?" "It's **W** orld **w** ide **H** andsome, Soo-Young- _ah_. Please. If we're going to work together, then you're going to have to know the three integral acronyms attached to the end of my business card.") - _should_ be using his fancy Italian espresso machine to brew a quick pick-me-up before performing his routine check-ups with the secondary military doctor, Park Soo-Young, on their injured agents.

Happy-go-lucky Park Jimin _should_ be picking out his weaponry for his upcoming reconnaissance mission with Kang Seulgi -

(“Agent Jeon – “

“I wholeheartedly - " Deep breath. " _Refuse_ this assignment.”)

Lastly, and most definitely, Jeon Jung-Kook and Kim Nam-Joon should _not_ be arguing so early in the day.

(“Kookie- _yah_ – “

“ _Hyung_ , I’m not doing this. Because if I remember correctly, _you're_ the one who recruited me and slapped that fifty-page contract in front of my face. Trust me. I read it. And I'm _pretty_ sure, my job description did not specify ‘ _supervising slash spying on trainees for possible insubordination'_ as a task!”)

But they are, growing intensely heated with each passing second that ticks away on the 24-hour analog clock. 

And the intense kerfuffle is more than enough to distract the small crowd within proximity to _not_ perform their duties and instead, watch the scene unfold before their eyes as if it were a box-office thriller.

It's not an exaggeration to consider this a marveling sight to behold, because Nam-Joon - the one who created the agency's ~~very useless~~ health and safety mood board, encouraged chair planks every half hour at their workstations, and pranced around the halls with a perpetually angelic smile that only heavenly beings were capable of wearing for twenty-four hours straight despite the neverending stress that comes with the harrowing responsibility as unit commander - is wearing a flinted glare so vicious, it's sending a trail of goosebumps crawling up and down Yoongi's arms.

That look - that very look, glazed with devastation and mercilessness all at once - reminds him of their early years spent as rookie field agents with B.T.S. 

It's bloodthirsty.

Savage. _Fierce_.

An expression that only manifests when the opportune time for an unsuspecting attack to the coronary artery arises.

Like now, for example.

But then again, eons have passed since then. The endless meetings and the hundred-page reports have mellowed the formerly aggressive agent to a tee. And his previous accolades, successes, yellowing certificates and rusting plaques donning his office walls don't mean much now, especially with the appearance of fresh blood that is just as feisty and - if not more - talented than their superiors who have long abandoned their field operations for a desktop computer and manila folders of paperwork.

Jeon Jung-Kook, of course, is no exception to this: rivaling the older man with a stony scowl of his own that's capable of rendering any passer-by (or in his rare case, his rather large hoard of fan-girls that _coincidentally_ showed up to the sparring ring whenever he was performing hand-to-hand combat training with Jimin) paralyzed.

Because Jeon Jung-Kook never shows fear. Not even a hint of a flinch when he had an assault rifle aimed directly at his chest with a ten-percent change of survival. And well, he lived to tell the tale, so what's a non-threatening Kim Nam-Joon to him?

Virtually nothing, _that's_ what.

The staring contest holds out, and an impenetrable uneasiness sweeps through the spectators silently until, at 07:06:23, Tae-Hyung could bear it no longer: he spares a quick peek at Jung-Kook's back, but in spite of the jovial boy's general aloofness when it came to matters completely unrelated to the very apple of his eye, even _he_ can smell the murderous intent radiating off the boy's muscular shoulders. It's equivalent to the literal weight of three Grim Reapers -

And damn, is it _terrifying_.

With that in mind, Tae-Hyung turns away, knowing better than to spy any longer. Pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth, he mumbles nervously, " _Yikes_." 

(“As your unit commander, this is an order.”

“Order- _schmorder_ , my damn - " Jung-Kook slams his palm against Nam-Joon's desk, punctuating the end of his sentence with a horrendously loud bang. " ** _Butt_**!”)

At 07:08:58, an amused chortle escapes Jimin's lungs - not because he's taking this as some form of cruel entertainment (no, of course not), but because it surprises him how much willpower Jung-Kook actually wielded. Maybe it's not a lot, but at the very least, it's still enough to _not_ curse in front of his supervisor's face. Even though, Jimin is ninety-nine percent certain that the younger boy probably has wishes to drop the F-bomb right then and there. Seulgi, bemused, smacks him in the chest with the back of her gloved hand.

"You ought to be careful with that, Seul. I know you hide blades inside," he retorts in a hiss, rubbing soothing circles against the throbbing pang. 

"We're not talking about that!" She chastises, sheathing his hunting knife into his holster. "You're the older one here, Jimin- _ah_. You should know better!"

Ho-Seok glances at the monitor - reading a _very_ concerning 07:11:23, because it's already been eleven minutes in, and there seemed no end to their youngest agent's unbridled berating. He performs a swift slicing swish against his neck and says tersely, " _Yah, hyung!_ Should we intervene somehow?"

Yoongi doesn't reply right away, choosing to wait out another minute or so until 07:12:33 to throw a snack-sized bag of unsalted popcorn at Ho-Seok's desk - or, _tries_ to, anyway. He misses, pitifully so, and the plastic packaging hits his younger colleague squarely on the forehead.

" _Hyung_ , that hurt! You really ought to join us again on our expeditions, lest you want to lose your fighting skills completely!"

"Might I remind you that you've had worse injuries than a rarely-existent bruise on your forehead," Yoongi points out matter-of-factly with a sarcastic roll of his eyes, diverting his attention back towards the bickering duo. "And trust me, I'm perfectly fine being surrounded by a comfortable cushion facing a computer screen for twelve hours straight rather than have to run around in the wild all sweaty and gross. That is not an offer that I'll ever refuse to pass up."

("Jung-Kook. This is out of my hands."

"No, it's not! Ask Wendy- _noona_ or Joo-Hyun- _noona_ to do it! You _know_ for a fact that I don't like her!") 

Crabby grumbling aside, Ho-Seok pops open the pack anyway, watching the spat from the corner of the room whilst cramming handfuls of popcorn kernels into his mouth. Seung-Hwan, peeved, sends him grating stares every few minutes in a failed attempt to reprimand him through telepathy that his eating habits needed a complete upheaval, but it doesn't last for much longer because finally - _and_ _at long last_ \- at 07:43:24, Jeon Jung-Kook emerges from the office.

He arrived at headquarters with the intention to work.

But instead, he has now left his superior's office with four things (in no particular order): a readily combustible head full of hot air; a hoarse, parched throat; a nagging migraine that he desperately needs to pop an Advil for, and the haunting hollowness as if his intestines were completely ripped away from his body.

(Not that, you know, he has _any_ experience with that - it's just a figure of speech.)

Jung-Kook sweeps his unkempt hair back in a failed attempt to smooth it out, but it only falls irritatingly over his eyes when he turns his attention towards his colleagues. Almost immediately, the look of pure disdain spreads even further across his angular facial features if that was still remotely possible.

They've been watching, and aren't exactly doing a great job at hiding the fact. Seokjin ~~escapes~~ is scampering away with his stethoscope dangling precariously around his neck like a bolo tie, dragging a whiny Soo-Young behind him. And while Jung-Kook is no physician, even _he_ has enough common sense to recognize that's not the proper way to don medical equipment. As for Jimin and Seulgi, the duo isn't even halfway _close_ to packing all of their necessary gear despite the fact that they should've departed for their destination fifteen minutes ago.

And seeing the older man's mocking, derisive smirk from afar only adds to his already foul mood.

God freaking _damnit_.

In spite of it all, he stomps down the levitating staircase with thundering footsteps like a toddler on the verge of throwing a temper tantrum. But halfway through his descent, he suddenly halts. 

There are only two ways to go about this now. And neither of them was going to yield him the most pleasant results.

The first, which is the more rational, peaceful side whispering instructions to remain obedient and compliant: type up a formal apology to his unit commander, making sure to use big words (like ' _besmirch the very integrity of this unit with my unmannerly, rude attitude_ ', _'do my utmost best to remain decorously civil starting forward'_ and whatever else that Seung-Hwan had taught him from that ginormous dictionary of hers) that would convey his heartfelt sentiments; then, deliver it personally and humbly accept the cruel, harsh reality that has befallen him without uttering another word.

Which, in hindsight, would paint him as an incredibly stupid, complaintive, and inept idiot. Essentially, a rebel who doesn't know the first _thing_ about staying professional in the workplace.

Or, the second, which is appearing mighty attractive in his currently seething brain: settle the rage right here, right now.

Jung-Kook knows that it's probably _not_ in his best interests to vent out his frustrations in a public place, especially in front of his seniors who look highly upon him, too. He tries to remind himself that he is, first and foremost, a secret agent who should not be dismissing any potential threat as if it were a grating nuisance (even though, he has all reason to classify his assignment as such). He's supposed to have a high EQ, which he demonstrated with that psychological testing that he aced back in January with flying colours as a patient, understanding individual who would thrive well even when put under duress. And what did he say at their graduation ceremony again? That memory of him accepting his medal of recognition seems so far off now - 

...Oh. Wait.

He pledged that he would never disappoint his role model who personally reached out to him to recruit him to their branch.

( _...Right. How could he ever forget the wordy pledge of cringe that followed?_ )

Because being a member of B.T.S. is a privilege, and with that privilege, he also needs to uphold his responsibilities - 

And what that entails, of course, is dealing with his assignments swiftly. 

But then again, he thinks with two balled fists, you know what? It's been one hell of a morning, and he doesn't need this on a Monday. He deserves better. Much better, to be precise, even though in his ideal world, better would come in the form of bubble tea (fifty percent sugar, less ice, double the pearls) - but there are no bubble tea shops that are open this early that he can storm into for some much-needed comfort. His squishy stress relief balls are broken beyond repair. That online store on eBay has _yet_ to send him a new pack -

And just having to _think_ of Kim-Annoyance-At-Its-Finest-Ye-Rim once again - with her stupidly goofy facial expressions, her foul sailor's mouth that has masterfully retaliated every form of constructive criticism that he had regarding her combative stance, and her ~~(admittedly)~~ skillful fingers that were giving his marksmanship skills a run for his money - is more than enough of a catalyst to ignite a rapidly boiling surge of anger through his system once more.

So that's why, Jeon Jung-Kook, in the heat of the moment, decides to _not_ give another damning shit.

And exactly at 7:44:01, he takes full liberty of having only two of his supervisory lieutenants remaining within proximity in the workplace to let out the shrillest, most ear-splitting scream known to mankind.

* * *

Just for the record, Jung-Kook isn't a prideful, snot-nosed shit who doesn't admit to his flaws. Sure, he gets showered with praise on the daily - for the smoldering charisma that has the younger, bright-eyed trainees flocking towards him like ravenous bees to honey, his arsenal of skills that rewarded him with the title of Golden Hawkeye, and the never-ending list of completed missions he had resolved under his sleeve even before his graduation some years back - he's well aware that his attitude is in desperate need of some much-needed remediation.

 _Y_ _es_ , he can be ill-tempered and crass.

 _Yes_ , he's not exactly the most respectful agent at times.

 _Yes_ , he can be pig-headed and stubborn.

 _Yes_ , it's probably not a wise idea to tell others who point this out (a la, the brutally honest Park Jimin, whom he shares a very tumultuous love-hate relationship with) to go suck an egg.

And _yes_ , now that he's calmed down after plowing a handful of the metallic bullets into the flimsy paper target dangling thirty feet away that could've sliced an actual human being into two perfectly proportional halves, that was - admittedly - a very amateurish display to his superior. Hell, _forget_ amateurish. It was just downright immature and (if Nam-Joon wasn't particularly merciful today) worthy of a disciplinary notice that would definitely put his expected promotion on hold. And to think, he was rising through the ranks faster than his brother was - all of his hard work, ruined because of a single mistake.

He sighs, setting the heavy firearm carefully onto the table before attempting to rub the permanent crease etched onto his forehead away. There's no use beating around the bush on this one, and nobody's going to come to his defense either.

Like it or not, he needs to suck up his pride and apologize.

 ** _(But_** \- 

His brain tries to argue. 

_But_ \- !)

Of course, in Jeon Jung-Kook's defensive state of mind, there's always a ' _but_ '.

* * *

The thing about Jung-Kook is, he knew right from the start that his heart and soul belonged to the secretive world of espionage, surveillance, and John Wick.

Okay, so maybe he's being a _tad_ bit dramatic with that last bit. After all, John Wick is fiction, and Jung-Kook has _yet_ to exploit a sharpened pencil as a usable weapon during his infiltration missions as masterfully as his fictitious idol. But anybody with a working set of eyes could tell, just by looking at the tall, seemingly silent youngster, that he carried a certain quality that the other seventeen-year-old recruits didn't have. Where the fledglings craved fame, glory, and prestige of having been accepted into one of the most grueling training academies in all of Seoul, Jung-Kook didn't find pleasure in any of that.

Rather, he carried passion. A fiery, ardent fervor, dedicated solely to helping the helpless, defending the weak and fighting against government corruption. A spirited vigour that wasn't easily swayed by the neverending concerns uttered from his worried parents' lips, who employed whatever means and propaganda necessary to dissuade their youngest son from carving out his own path and to follow his older sibling's footsteps towards a stable blue-collar, 9-5 desk job. An impassioned flame that seared in a hot, rapid flash through Nam-Joon's being when Jung-Kook introduced himself with a strong handshake as Trainee No. 97, leaving a long-standing impression seared in the older man's mind when he left the trainee's quarters that evening. 

And that's why - nearly six years of blood, sweat, and tears later with his entire teenagehood sacrificed to ten-hour sessions in learning how to be the best sharpshooter in his small class of fifteen, in teaching himself the basic fundamentals of coding to being able to implant unsuspecting viruses into a computer and taking down his first mafia boss even before he graduated with top marks - Jung-Kook adamantly believes that he didn't train _this_ hard and renounce any chance of living a normal life to do something that didn't make use of his skills properly. 

In short, why? 

(And forgive him, because he _is_ only twenty-three and sometimes, using foul language is the only cathartic way he can get his point across - ) 

It's just too fucking _dumb_ to even rationalize. 

While Jung-Kook's too caught up in his whirlwind of thoughts, he doesn't detect the metrical _clack-clack-clack_ of footsteps heading his direction from behind. And even then, it isn't until he feels two calloused fingers - freezing to the bone, as if they were plunged into a bucket of ice-filled water just seconds prior - pinching the back of his neck that the younger man finally spins around, snapping back to reality. Temporary relief washes over his face briefly when he realizes who it is. 

"Oh. Yoongi- _hyung_. Hey." But in no time at all, the frown returns and Jung-Kook adds with a dejected shrug, "Look. If you're trying to convince me that I'm wrong, spare your breath. I know it's my fault." 

"You can be a brat sometimes, but you're a brat that still has a basic concept of morals," Yoongi replies with a stilted chuckle, crossing his arms against his chest. "Good. But also, I'm not here to tell you off."

"How'd you know I was here anyway?"

"We know you well enough that whenever you've had an awful day, you either grab a vanilla soft-serve to eat your feelings away _or_ you blow off steam at the gun range. And since you weren't in the cafeteria, then this was my next best bet." The blonde smirks. "Not much detective work is needed when I've watched you train for this long, Kook. And I must say, had it been you to perform the infiltration today, I would've been more than impressed with your gunmanship. You didn't - " He reaches an arm forward, yanking the lever down and watches the cardboard target spring forward at an incredible speed. Yoongi only takes a few seconds to inspect the damage dealt before whistling - a high-tone squeal - in approval. "Waste a single round. Whoever this person is, they would've died in five seconds _flat_."

Meekly, the younger man scratches the back of his nape. "Five seconds, huh?" On a good day, Jung-Kook would've been more than pleased with his results. But it's not exactly a good day for him, so he quashes down whatever self-praise he has for himself and mumbles bitterly, "Well, it looks like I need to get that down to _three_."

What comes next is completely unexpected: a gentle fist, knocking faintly against his damp forehead. And Yoongi, clearly unfazed by the dangerous threat lingering in his words, advises, "C'mon, Kook. Lighten up. I get why you're upset."

"But what good is that going to do when Nam-Joon- _hyung_ _doesn't?"_ Jung-Kook grumbles with an inward groan. "I respect him, _hyung_. I really do. But you cannot tell me that this is complete and utter bullshit. Asking me - _me_ , of all people - to spy on Kim Ye-Rim." The almond-brown irises harden into the darkened shade of black coffee as he spits out her name, enunciating each syllable with well-intentioned malice. There's so much venom packed in his words that Yoongi's sure it would've put a rattlesnake out of business. "What he's asking me to do is the complete opposite of what I was trained to do." 

"Well, that aside," Yoongi adds. "You and Ye-Rimmie don't exactly see eye to eye now, do you?"

If _'don't exactly see eye to eye'_ was a synonym for ' _absolutely detest_ ', then sure. Yoongi's just putting it mildly - and in what nightmarish universe is he living through that Yoongi's coining affectionate nicknames for someone like _her_?! Nonetheless, Jung-Kook appreciates his senior leaving the comfort of his office chair to speak to him about this. So, he decides against providing legitimate reasoning as to why he doesn't like her and settles for a neutral-sounding: "Uh, yeah. No kidding." 

"Look. I know it's not the most ideal set-up. You like getting down and dirty. This assignment doesn't exactly ask that of you."

The tension in Jung-Kook's stance relaxes by a smidge. "Well, I'm glad that you had the decency to notice - "

"But that being said," Yoongi interjects firmly, silencing the younger man from releasing yet another torrential tirade about why and _how_ this was damningly absurd on all levels. "Joon has said that this is an unavoidable arrangement. We're short-staffed as it is. Just - try to see it from another perspective, okay? Like, I'm not trying to preach positivity and shit rainbows everywhere, but you were never the best at surveillance. Maybe - " He shrugs, offhanded and casual. "Maybe this will teach you a new thing or two."

"...I get enough practice by adding undetectable spyware into Tae-Tae- _hyung's_ computer, thank you _very_ much."

"And yet," Yoongi drawls. "It's not doing much in increasing his productivity at work now, is it?"

Well. Yoongi's not wrong there. 

"I just need to - "

"Look. You have the entire Korean vocabulary at your disposal. Talk to Joon. Set your differences aside. Come to a compromise."

"You're not taking sides, are you?" Jung-Kook snipes suspiciously, but at the very least, his eyes were no longer furrowed and slanted when he says this. "'Cause it sure as hell sounds like you _are_."

"I ain't got time to do that shit," Yoongi replies, leaning back against the counter. "All I'm here to do is deliver a message in absolute peace. Take that as you will." 

And Jung-Kook will. Because Jung-Kook loves his job too much to watch his budding career flush down the toilet over something like this. If this was his sole opportunity for him to convince Nam-Joon that he can accomplish both - babysit a supposedly inept trainee, and partake in any side missions that involved petty criminals and low-ranking gang leaders at the same time - then he'll take whatever he can get to win Nam-Joon's good graces once more.

Then again, it's not like he would ever admit to this. So a drawn-out pause later, Jung-Kook finally huffs, "...Fine", making no attempt in masking the disapproval in his voice as he quickly follows Yoongi out of the arena. 

* * *

Eventually, the fire settled.

Jung-Kook issued his sentimental apology with a package of ~~toothpaste~~ mint-flavoured Oreos ("You can't go wrong with his favourite snacks, Kook. Trust me."), and Nam-Joon halfheartedly agreed that requesting for twenty-four surveillance was asking too much for the poor boy. It wasn't smooth sailing, and Ho-Seok had considered stepping in as a mediator. But a middle ground was ultimately achieved: Jung-Kook promised to deliver detailed weekly reports while Nam-Joon would try (emphasis on the 'try' - Jung-Kook didn't like that all too much) squeeze in menial counterintelligence tasks that would keep the younger man occupied without going stir-crazy. 

They shook on it too, with tightened, firm grips that encompassed a prideful sense of trust, much greater than any rubber seal or a fancy signature could ever do - but Jung-Kook nearly fractured a bone in Nam-Joon's pinky in the process, so maybe Yoongi was just being way too optimistic that all was well - 

But hey, they had to start somewhere.

And for Jung-Kook, this meant swallowing that hardened lump in the back of his throat, listening to his nicked fingers crackle and pop as he cracked the dainty bones one too many times, and stepping forward so that the automatic double doors hiss open upon detecting his presence to meet the very person that he desperately wished to avoid altogether - 

"Well, well, well. To what do we owe the pleasure, Agent Jeon?" 

But can't.

(And his desire to go home to smother himself to death with a pillow intensifies a hundred-fold.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, with that in mind, what's 2020 without my yearly tradition of writing another JungRi multi-chapter story? This, to be very honest with you, has been sitting in my WIPs for the longest time. I tried writing this with different pairings. Wrote and re-wrote and re-wrote and nearly deleted - but at the end of it all, I can never, ever stray too far away from my OTP. :3 
> 
> This is inspired by the following Reddit prompt, "The FBI agent assigned to watch you through your webcam falls in love with you" - alongside [many others](https://onetruepairingideas.tumblr.com/post/138764996126/spy-aus). LMAO. Hope you all enjoyed, and I'll see you next time! :)


	2. YR.

Kim Ye-Rim.

How this name came to be, she’s not completely sure of its origins. A dated textbook from the nineties informs her that whilst a very popular female name (there were already three others in her weaponry lecture), it also carries a special underlying meaning of ‘ _a beautiful, dainty flower bud to be gawked at and admired from afar_ ’.

Now, the former part, she has no qualms in denying. Yoo-Jung and Soo-Hyun claim this all the damn time, crooning over her doe-like eyes, the single dimple sitting oh-so-perfectly at the corner of her lips like the coveted cherry on top of an already nauseatingly saccharine smile that can weaken even the most pigheaded of individuals into submission during a high-pressure situation. As quoted from Lee Soo-Hyun, circa 2020, ‘ _you’re a dangerously adorable weapon in of itself_ ’.

But the latter though –

The latter is _so_ very incorrect, because charming as she is, there’s so much more lying underneath the picture-perfect, dime-a-dozen smile that could be commonly found walking among the streets of Gangnam.

Kim Ye-Rim isn’t _just_ a synonym for blossoming plants. Oh, no. Her name is equivalent to the legendary ace of her graduating class. The jack-of-all-trades. The master of many, as Yukhei likes teasing often, much to her chagrin. And while she has never been one to relish in flowery flattery or praise (because frankly, isn’t this just _performing her job **well**_?), these fancy-schmancy nicknames are very well deserved for a good reason.

(And no, before anybody questions, she’s **_not_** being boastful.

Really. She’s not. It’s not like she asked for it. If anything, blame the instigator-who-she-wishes-not-to-name-because-his-name-is-vile-and-makes-her-insides-twist.)

Combat arts like Tae Kwon Do and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu? While her comrades can only master one out of the four that they’re taught, she manages to execute _both_. Even more impressive was her innate ability to switch between the two fighting styles fluidly, as if she were a fish swiftly navigating through turbulent waters. Instructor Kim is still nursing a bruise on her left rib, thanks to a hard-hitting punch delivered the other afternoon.

Soft skills like evasion? The enemy would be dropping to their knees, arteries slashed, and the corpse left out to bleed until they were milked dry in milliseconds before they could even detect her presence. 

Focus, concentration, and leadership? The spunky, determined student is equipped with it all – and _then_ some.

Not only that, she’s well-liked by most, in which her happy-go-lucky attitude had contributed to her likability (as proven by the confession letters gets stuffed through the tiny mail slot in her room) and is practically adored by the staff and the cafeteria cooks – almost to the point of favouritism, but not that she cares about getting an extra serving of that cake batter flavoured protein bar.

So, _technically_ speaking, she’s faultless. Walking perfection to everyone –

“…Kim Ye-Rim.”

Well. _Almost_ everyone – because not every single person has the capacity within themselves to _not_ grow envious of such excellence. 

“Well, well, well. To whom do we owe the pleasure, Agent Jeon?”

And Jeon Jung-Kook, unfortunately, is one of those strange anomalies.

* * *

The thing is, Ye-Rim is _not_ the type of person to deliberately piss people off without a proper motive. And it’s not like she deliberately instigates drama with other people either, because a) it’s a goddamned waste of time when she could be proactively doing other things that would benefit her future, b) she firmly believes in the notion that people who aren’t deserving of her time also do not deserve any form of occupancy in her already-full brain and c) well, aren’t two reasons good enough?

Yet, the moment she set her eyes on Jeon Jung-Kook (or was it vice versa? It’s been so long since the inception of their rivalry that she can’t be concerned with remembering the minute details anymore), time seemed to come to a complete standstill. And not exactly in the best way, either.

Contrary to her ecstatic classmates who whispered in hushed voices over the 'attractive piece of potential arm candy', she wasn't captivated in the slightest. Objectively speaking, sure, he _was_ attractive with the slight, muscular build hiding underneath his clothes, especially with those striking eyes of his could burn a hole through a cement wall but - 

There was definitely a 'something' to the young boy that made her suspicious and wary. Was it the overly fake smile, or his stilted attitude underneath that puppy-dog facade? Maybe it was in his aura that screamed disinterest, and the way he seemed to scan every new recruit with a holier-than-thou spirit.

Call it her overreactive subconscious, women's intuition or (even more dramatically) the universe warning her to prevent all-out war, one thing was for sure: they were all delivering the same message, which was to stay away from Jeon Jung-Kook.

But the problem is, eighteen-year-old Ye-Rim operated like stick dynamite: plain-looking, generally benign, and non-threatening _if_ treated properly. When the fuse was lit, though: well, let’s just say that anybody standing in her proximity would be subjected to a painful and explosive world of agonizing hurt. And Ye-Rim admits, at that age, she's not the best in preventing petty remarks from getting underneath her skin, but it's not like she didn't try. She _did_.

The first time it happened, she heard him scowling at her from behind as they were practicing their sniping skills at the gun range. Underneath her supposedly soundproof headphones, she heard him mumbling haphazardly about how very _incorrect_ her stance was, and how all the time and money in the world could never ' _fix that posture_ '. But she held back, biting her tongue. And why did she do that? Well, maybe because she vaguely contemplated the idea that Jeon Jung-Kook had experienced a low-ranking operation gone awfully wrong and was simply watching out for her to ensure she doesn't commit the same fault in the field.

 _If_ that were the case, then she can sympathize with his inner struggles in overcoming failure and taking out his frustrations on unsuspecting victims. Wrong as it may be, hell, who _doesn't_ get knocked down a few pegs after that?

Unfortunately, it wasn't.

The second incident took place several weeks thereafter because apparently, making use of her leisure time to go shopping could warrant such an explosive reaction. And not a good one at that. She even contemplated (for a few mind-numbing seconds after he dropped such a crass statement, mind you) that the older operative simply woke up on the wrong side of the bed and had no desire to play nice that very evening when he walked into the shared lounge area, watching her ' _flaunt her purchases, wasting time on material goods that do nothing but contribute to the world's carbon footprint_ '.

He was already cutting it close if she was being completely honest, and she had half the mind to tell him to piss off with that sourpuss, no-jam attitude. But she resisted, and through meditative breathing exercises that she routinely practiced, encouraged herself to build a bridge and get over it as she usually does.

But **nobody** \- and she'll emphasize this over and over, inebriated or not over _samgyeopsal_ on their rare days off, to any of her fellow friends who are probably sick and tired of hearing her recount her story as to how Jeon Jung-Kook fell from her tenth most disliked to position negative gazillion - deserves to be verbally insulted over a fractured collarbone during a practice spar that had kept her out of action for nearly two weeks.

Did she ask for it? No. Damn _straight_ , she didn't. 

But once again, Jeon Jung-Kook - who, very clearly, had a gigantic bamboo stick shoved up his tiny ass that didn't even fit into his pants properly - just had to stick his head into issues that didn't concern him whatsoever and said with disapproval coating his words thickly: "If you aren't going to take this seriously, then go home. You're an insufferable trainwreck to watch, you know that?"

And just like that, Ye-Rim - frustrated, peeved from the prospect of having to be stuck behind a computer screen and already very irritated due to her limitation in mobility - fucking _snapped_.

_"Hey. Well, you know what? At least I don't have an inflated ego as ginormous as your head!"_

Although, come to think of it, there were so many more witty insults she could've clapped back with. Damn her turtle-like mind for brainstorming them a tad too late. 

Still, while many others would've been sorely tempted to throw in the flag and give up as the esteemed mentor had icily advised, Kim Ye-Rim did the complete opposite of that. No, she wasn't going to play into his bullshit like putty so simply as if she were some spineless snail.

Adding on, she would rather fling herself off the nearest bridge first before succumbing to Jeon Jung-Kook's idiotic words. She could never live with herself if she packed up her things defeatedly. 

And so, she made it her ultimate goal in life to surpass Jeon Jung-Kook in _all_ areas to prove him otherwise and make him choke on his words in regret (well, that's what Doyeon _claimed_ she threatened - albeit, with drool and vomit dribbling out of the corner of her lips during dinner). Because no, she's _not_ baggage; she's not dragging her future teammates down; she's not an absolute trainwreck as that jerk claimed - and she'll make it abso- ** _fucking_** -lutely clear when she receives her recruitment notice from any high-ranking espionage agency that her position is well-deserved. 

Now, in more colloquial, professional terms, it would be called friendly competition and a good form of motivation. Donghyuck and Soo-Hyun, though - completely stunned and shell-shocked by the fact that Ye-Rim could drink herself stupid to the point of intoxication and _still_ form slightly coherent sentences - like to use the term one-upping.

Whatever the hell it meant, Ye-Rim doesn't quite care. Donghyuck had a strange tendency to use terms - courtesy of Mark Lee, that transfer trainee hailing from the friendly country of maple syrup and maple candy - that she never understood.

What she does understand, though, is two things.

The first: she can smell the tantalizing, delicious scent of freedom wafting in the air, and she's more than desperate to escape being trapped in the same dungeon as her number one mortal enemy. Once her recruitment interview is completed and her exams are _finally_ done and over with - with the condition that she's kept a clean record during her intensive training period - she'll be out of B.H.'s door and most importantly, far, _far_ away from Jeon Jung-Kook. 

But the second: before she can experience _any_ of that, she still needs to overcome one more obstacle standing a good ten feet away from her with his dumb ski-slope nose wrinkled at her in distaste.

Not that she _really_ wants to meet him after downing her breakfast, anyway - just to be clear.  
  


* * *

Any member of the self-proclaimed Agent J.J.K. fan club (yes, it is a thing; yes, Ye-Rim doesn't understand why such a heinous creation came to existence, but okay, whatever - stupidity exists everywhere, go figure) would have fought viciously amongst themselves for a one-on-one private conversation with the handsome operative.

Ye-Rim, though, doesn't quite share the same sentiments - especially not with that damn look he's giving her, eyeing her up and down like some wrathful vulture.

Well. At least they can agree on that, she adds as a humourless afterthought, hopping off the cafeteria table. 

Shaking her head briefly, she watches the older agent trot towards her in cautious, heavy steps. Furrowed brows accompany his hostile expression, and Ye-Rim, having learned to grow unfazed by his harmless glares - returns it with an equally dirty look.

If this were a staring contest that rated levels of malice, Ye-Rim would totally emerge as the victor. And if she could knock the older man out cold with just one look, well, that would be the perfect cherry on top of an already shitty morning.

Jung-Kook stops after eyeballing that there was a good three feet between them. Ye-Rim scoffs. Three feet is _more_ than enough space to block an unsuspecting punch or a kick in the groin. This is cowardice: absolute cowardice. But she knows better than to tell him off for it. She stays silent, shuffling forward slowly to close the gap. All the while, Jung-Kook never takes his gaze off her.

While Ye-Rim knows this is supposed to be some stupid luxury that his fan club would never shut up about ("His posture!" They croon like lovesick idol _sasaeng_ fans. "Oh, his body language!"), it just makes her ill to have to look at his damningly smug face for this long without recoiling. 

Even so, she speaks first with an air of confidence, because it's not in her blood to show vulnerability. She could make do without the audience sitting behind them, watching their interaction unfold as if it were the climax to 'You Who Came From The Stars', but whatever it takes to get through this pained interaction faster, she'll do it. 

"So?" She asks, terse and to the point. "Let's get this over with. What do you want?"

Jung-Kook doesn't reply just yet. Ye-Rim senses his fan club holding their breath, mumbling inaudible prayers that this wasn't a confession worthy of a forty-five-minute slow-burn drama episode. 

And then - 

"I'm here - " He digs his hands deep into the pockets of his pants. "To deliver a message."

 _O...kay?_ Ye-Rim tilts her head to the side. Not exactly what she expected. _And you couldn't make do with a delivery pigeon to get that across, huh?_

She keeps her lips sealed shut, shifting her weight onto one foot as she waits for him to continue - only to be met with complete silence once again. Whatever this mysterious message is, it's absolutely killing her to the point of no return - and it seems to be doing the same to him, bearing down heavily on his shoulders. Really, though, why couldn't he just come right out and say it?

"Don't waste my time," she growls, borderline aggressive. " ** _Say_** it." _Say it before I have to wrench your jaw open -_

He stares at her, passive and blank-faced as the words leave his mouth. "The higher-ups of B.T.S. and R.V.-S. have requested that I act as your supervisory mentor for the remaining months of your training period."

_...What?_

At first, she blinks, utterly confused. 

He blinks, then proceeds to roll his eyes. 

The entire cafeteria falls into an eerie silence. Nobody is moving a muscle: not him, not her, not her friends, not the cafeteria servers (what's that smell? It reeks of burnt toast) and most definitely **_not_** his fan club - but Ye-Rim knows that a protest is being planned right then and there. 

Her breath catches in the back of her throat, and she staggers back with her hand outstretched for a supporting surface to keep her afloat. The neurons in her brain - she can physically feel them short-circuiting in rapid succession as she attempts to process his words one more time.

All that stumbles past her lips clumsily, though, is a thunderstruck almost-scream of, "Ex ** _cuse_** me?"

Jung-Kook sighs, rubbing his forehead. "Yeah, uh - "

Ye-Rim shakes her head: a series of violent left-right movements that leaves her dizzily blindsided for a second. " ** _NO_**. I refuse." 

With an irritated scowl, he retorts, " _Please_. And you think that I want to do this? I've got much better things to do than babysit someone like _you_."

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean, huh?"

Behind her, Donghyuck hisses, panicked with his arms flapping like an excited chicken, "Rim- _ah_ , please! You can't just drop swear words like that!"

But honestly, swearing is the only tactic that she can employ right now to release the rapidly building tension in her body. It's either that or her hand, unconsciously clenched into a tight fist - and Ye-Rim would definitely take insubordination by disrespect a top field agent over expulsion by giving the gigantic asshole a much-needed taste of his own medicine with a Herculean knuckle sandwich delivered straight to his plastic-surgery-manufactured nose.

"I don't fucking need it," she spits out viciously.

("Ye- ** _Rim_**!" Donghyuck screams once again. "No more! No more! My ears are bleeding!")

"And I certainly don't need _you_." Just the mere thought of having to be tugged around on a leash by this demon from Hades' living room is enough to make her shiver. 

"Fine. Let me put it in a way that you'll understand, then," Jung-Kook says. Even though Ye-Rim is in no mood to listen, even she has to admit that the amount of patience he's displaying right now is incredible. Must come with the job, huh? "R.V.-S. has been monitoring your activities for a while now, and needless to say, they're - " He pauses. "Impressed."

Hold on. Now, _that_ has her interest piqued.

She knows R.V.-S. well: they were the famed quartet who assisted in rescuing the prime minister's daughter after she was abducted by a foreign mafia group. Not only that, they were the _only_ all-female agency in the country to have successfully risen to the same ranks as B.T.S. within several years after establishment (thanks to the subdued but effective leadership from the entrancingly lethal Bae Joo-Hyun).

God knows that it was every girl's dream to be recruited by R.V.-S. after graduation - Ye-Rim being one of the many, and it's precisely why she decides to give Jung-Kook the benefit of the doubt. 

"...Okay," Ye-Rim says slowly. Her heart races, pounding like a rhythmic drum as she prods, "Go on."

"I cannot disclose much more than that," he explains. "But they have high hopes for you and believe in your potential, but before that can happen, _this_ \- " He gestures towards her - or, the damningly large space between them, to be precise. "Arrangement is necessary to ensure that they're making the correct decision."

"And they decided on _you_ to monitor me?" Not that she would try to question the decisions of a possible employed, but why _him_ , of all people?

"The most important thing is," Jung-Kook points out gruffly. "In spite of our - differences - "

 _More like hatred for one another,_ Ye-Rim grimaces as she taps the sole of her sneaker into the marbled white flooring, _but alright._

"This is a responsibility that I have been assigned. And while you have all right to decline, I'm just telling you now that R.V.-S. doesn't recruit anybody into their team. I'd advise you to think about this carefully." 

In short, Ye-Rim realizes, it's a ' _do as you're told, or you're fucked'_ kind of situation: one that, depending on what her answer is, can have tremendous repercussions for both parties. 

"Do I even have a choice?" She questions rigidly. 

At that, Jung-Kook's lips quirk slightly into a crooked smirk. It's the only time during their entire conversation that he's smiled, but it would've looked mighty attractive on _somebody else's_ face - since it's him, Ye-Rim wants nothing more than to wipe it off with her palm. "Hmm. Not much."

She says nothing, curling a finger underneath her chin as she contemplated her options - or, lack thereof. A ' **YES** ' doesn't guarantee a surefire entry into the one agency that she so very much wants to join, but it does promise five months of torturous chiding and God knows what else from her mortal enemy. A ' **NO** ', though -

She frowns: a ' **NO** ' is absolute. ' **NO** ' means no chances at all, and that's the worse outcome, isn't it? 

As if he could telepathically read her thoughts calculating the pros and cons of each decision, he adds quietly, "And because I'm a professional, I will not be bringing in any personal prejudices into this. Past _or_ present."

"And you can promise that?" Ye-Rim challenges, but as she expected, his face betrayed nothing else. He stands with his hands locked behind his back, waiting for her response. There's no getting out of this without a decision now, is there? 

So without wasting another second, she tips her head forward slightly. Jung-Kook visibly relaxes as she confirms curtly, "Fine." 

"Tomorrow, then. 07:00, sharp. Meet me outside the Central Wing." Jung-Kook prepares to turn on his heel to leave the premise as quickly as his legs would allow, but just as he nears the exit, he stops and, with his head slightly turned towards the side, warns, "Don't say I didn't warn you: give me trouble, and there will be much more than just your career on the line. Mark my words."

"Likewise," Ye-Rim snaps, staring daggers into his backside. "Don't give me attitude where it's not deserved." Because in a mutually beneficial partnership like theirs - if she could even call it that, really - it's very much of a two-way street. If he was going to set up terms and conditions, so was she - and she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"...Unless perfectly warranted, but sure."

And without another word spoken from the sullen man, he departs, his figure growing more and more minuscule before disappearing altogether into the blinding beam of light illuminating the hallway. 

And Ye-Rim, having felt as though she had just gone through five rounds of Muay Thai with this dumb-ass, collapses into the arms of a very concerned and worried Donghyuck. " _Noona_! A-are you okay?!"

She was - albeit, much later, when Ye-Rim had gulped down some water and finally let the news sink in. Looking up from the glass and into the nosy faces of the remaining occupants, she _finally_ lost the last bits of her cool and shrieked ballistically, "Well!? Don't you all have things to do!? _**I**_ definitely do!" 

* * *

_INTERLUDE._  
  
(1)

" _Yah_. Hyuck." If there's one thing that Lee Donghyuck detests more than overcooked cup _ramen_ and Na Jaemin, it would be sweat-drenched people hopping onto his comforter as if it were no big deal. No exceptions. "Train with me."

Especially not for Kim Ye-Rim, whom he had just spent a good four and a half hours during the afternoon, granting her permission to pummel the complete shit out of his training mitts. Purely out of the goodness of his heart, seriously, _but_ kindness has its limits - and this is where he's drawing the line in the sand. 

" _Noona_." The normally peppy youngster groans, swiveling around in his chair to peer at the feisty young woman. "You have to be joking. It's ten. At _night_. We already did that today!"

"Training never ends," she corrects swiftly with a smack around his head. "And ten means nothing. C'mon. Let's go."

"No! I'm _tired_!" Donghyuck whines, pulling his gaze away from Ye-Rim's figure and back onto his flashing screen. "Let me game!" 

"You game enough as is," Ye-Rim tuts, squinting at the gigantic monitor perched on his tiny desk. "And this won't help with your training."

"It's training muscle memory and my typing skills when I apply for that I.T. job! There's a sandbag in the training arena, so if you need something to hit, go beat the crap out of that!"

"It doesn't feel right!" She presses. "Come with me!" 

And in a high-pitched shrill - one that would've shamed Mariah Carey to retirement - he squeals, " **NO!** "

"I'll buy you ice-cream on our next day off." 

"Fake promises mean _nothing_!" He accuses, jabbing his finger at her while expertly setting off an all-out attack on his virtual enemy with the other. "You said you were going to buy me _jjajangmyeon_ a few weeks back, and that didn't happen!" 

But try as he might, inevitably, Donghyuck relents, because he's just _that_ great of a soul to intervene to ensure that his favourite _noona_ didn't throw herself into the pits of despair. 

(And surprisingly, Ye-Rim _does_ stay true to her word, sneaking them out of the dormitory to the nearest convenience store to buy him Haagen-Dazs, so yeah, that makes his sore arms worth it.

Kinda.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't the rivals-to-lovers trope perfectly suited for JungRi? Ah, I love them - and I love writing for them, and I hope you guys are just as excited for the next few chapters! Spoilers perhaps, but I have an entire backstory planned for Kook and Rim that will help them navigate through the turbulence of being rivals, and to becoming more trusting of one another, hehe >3<
> 
> In the meantime, thank you so much for your patience and for reading! Hope to see you all very soon c: Take care!


	3. JK.

Jung-Kook firmly believes that telling an occasional lie wouldn’t hurt anybody. White lies are commonplace in the workforce, like when partaking in an interrogation to squeeze integral information from an enemy or – even worse – having Seung-Hwan _noona_ ask whether her pastry experiments tasted good. Often, Jung-Kook puts on a picture-perfect smile, nodding enthusiastically as he compliments with crumbs coating his upper lip messily, ‘ _oh, why yes, your croissants tasted delectable. Delicious, noona_ ’. He justifies it as common courtesy, since the older woman had a fragile ego, especially when it came to things like decryption and bread-baking.

(On the bright side, she’s getting there when it came to being an accomplished baker.

Just – not quite there. _Yet_.)

But _black_ lies, though –

Despite Seulgi’s stern, constant proclamations that these were a heinous crime, he still chooses to tell them. Not because he’s a horrible person, per se, but because he sees it as a means to an end. His logic is, if it helps him accomplish whatever needs to be done, then why not?

Jung-Kook also wholeheartedly claims that applying this type of thinking to his current problem – a la, getting the impish demon standing at five-foot-one to accept their arrangement – shouldn’t be seen as something negative, but a _positive_. And technically, it wasn’t that far of a stretch from the truth. He’s caught Joo-Hyun- _noona_ reading her file whenever she wasn’t deadpanning at Tae-Hyung’s over the top antics, making pristine notes in the margins of the pages and humming in what Jung-Kook is ninety-five percent sure is approval. And in essence, he wasn’t technically lying. He was just…passing on the message a few months early.

If you think about it that way, it’s not _that_ bad.

And thus, conclusively: no harm done. Right?

_(…Right?!)_

Well, at least, that’s what he _originally_ thought.

“Ow! _Hyung_ , stop!”

Until now that is, because currently, there’s nobody else standing in the same room who’s moaning in pure agony _more_ than him. And Jung-Kook never realized how terrifying Kim Tae-Hyung – B.T.S.’s I.T. specialist and resident peacemaker with a generally happy-go-lucky demeanour – _truly_ was until this moment, where he, sipping his tea before a computer monitor, had asked cordially (because that’s how he _usually_ is when he wasn’t making heart eyes at Joo-Hyun- _noona_ ), “So, how did your talk with Ye-Rim- _sshi_ go?”

An innocent enough question. Good enough to break down Jung-Kook’s defensive guise and candidly respond with, “Not so bad.”

And that would’ve been it. A ‘not so bad’ would’ve sufficed, and they would’ve returned to business as usual. But no, his god-damned big fucking mouth just had to go ahead and continue yapping away like a chihuahua. And why is he even making such a stupid comparison when he doesn’t even like chihuahuas in the first place?

Whatever.

Jung-Kook tends to forget that underneath Tae-Hyung’s kind demeanour hides a wrathful demon that very much resembles one of Final Fantasy 7’s mini-bosses. There’s a menacing flash in his light-brown eyes that seems to darken to the colour of charcoal, nearly petrifying him as he clamps his hands down onto his shoulders tightly. The tea that he was originally drinking was now left to cool to a disgusting lukewarm temperature.

“You – “ He gives him a good, violent shake. “ ** _What_**?!”

“I-I mean,” Jung-Kook tries to pacify with a sweet, charming grin that always worked on Seung-Hwan. “Whatever it takes to get the job done, Tae-Hyungie- _hyung_!”

“Nicknames aren’t going to save your ass now, Kook!” He snaps, his face growing as puffy as a chipmunk with its mouth stuffed full.

He blinks for a moment. “W-wait, **_you_** swear too?”

Tae-Hyung’s brow only creases deeper as he grabs hold of the collar of his shirt. “Stop trying to change the subject! Just, why? Why did you name-drop Joo-Hyun- _noona_ and R.V.-S like that as if it were no big deal!? What in the world, Jeon Jung-Kook! _Why_ did you do that?!”

Perhaps it’s adrenaline. Most likely, it’s anger and fury. And in Jung-Kook’s wildest hallucinations and daydreams, it would be that Tae-Hyung was a genetic experiment gone faulty and had mutated to gain Herculean strength that only manifested under the intense rage. Nonetheless, Jung-Kook is finding himself increasingly breathless and concerned over the fact that the artificially blonde man was now hoisting him a good three inches into the air.

Well, that and the very fact that he can’t exactly breathe from the livid man’s chokehold. 

“ _H-hyung_ ,” he dry-heaves, arms flailing. “O- _oxygen_!”

That seems to knock some sense back into Tae-Hyung. Almost immediately, he lets go and Jung-Kook falls to the tiled flooring. Spluttering all over as he tries to steady his breathing, Tae-Hyung gets to his knees, his irises turning apologetic as he stammers worriedly, “O-oh, I-I’m so sorry!”

“I thought I heard something. What’s going on, you two?”

And suddenly, as if right on cue, Bae Joo-Hyun steps into Jung-Kook’s foggy periphery.

(Not surprisingly, Tae-Hyung drops his worries for Jung-Kook like a hot potato.

Damn lovesick puppy.)

Even through his distorted vision, there’s no denying the ice-cold, demanding aura from the older woman. Jung-Kook admits, her heavenly appearance is devastating and works effectively as a weapon in the field. Look at how she’s got Tae-Hyung so unexpectedly wrapped around her finger just by standing there with her arms crossed.

But unparalleled beauty aside, Jung-Kook has always held a certain level of respect for the older woman. Joo-Hyun comes from a humble background: a simple-minded girl from the countryside who busted her ass off to ace her college entrance exams with intentions to finish a degree in criminology, and then subsequently, apply to law school to become a criminal justice lawyer.

Yet, something had changed the trajectory of her career plans. It’s unclear what – or how – it happened, but rather than donning that black cape with the awful George Washington-like wig (because no, that combination has got to go), she chose to drop out two years into her schooling to become a field agent instead. And a legendary one at that: never giving up, even when the training period turned rough; even when Seulgi was the only one left behind among the original group of young women who were supposed to join R.V.-S had they aced their physical examinations. She rose to the ranks of Nam-Joon’s position when she was _only_ twenty-three. Nam-Joon couldn’t even break that record with his impeccable, near-perfect stats in the field.

And not surprisingly, Joo-Hyun’s hard work paid off in the end. She now singlehandedly serves as the head of one of the most prestigious surveillance units in all East Asia, comprising of the most elite members that she could find.

Not that, you know, many people met her expectations in the first place.

Some people may label her tight-knit, exclusive, and choosy. Jung-Kook thinks she has all reason to be picky about her selections.

But clearly, he didn’t think of _that_ when he decided to become The Boy Who Cried Wolf.

And it’s only now – with Jung-Kook finally replenished with fresh air, fully recovered from the bout of slight light-headedness and eyes concentrated solely on the no-nonsense expression of Bae Joo-Hyun with astonishing clarity – that he realizes how _fucking stupid_ of an idea it was.

* * *

Then again, wherever there’s a will – or in this particular, an easily enticed Kim Tae-Hyung – there will always be a way.

Jung-Kook rubs the back of his aching head with his hand, casting a knowing glance in Tae-Hyung’s direction. Not surprisingly, the boy’s round eyes are near bursting out of his sockets with his hands clamped together into a tight fist looking like some childish grade-schooler who's itching to report any naughtiness to their homeroom teacher. No doubt he thinks he’ll win some brownie points if he tattle-tells on Jung-Kook. Asshole.

With the amount of intensity smoldering off Jung-Kook’s glare, he hopes it’ll be enough to deliver a telepathic threat of, ‘ _don’t even_ **_think_** _about it_ ’.

Tae-Hyung’s response was – not unexpected, to say the least: a puppy-dog glare that clearly read, ‘ _make me_ ’.

Joo-Hyun, very visibly flustered by the passionate stare-off commencing between her fellow comrades (with a desperate plea sent to the heavens that she find an impromptu emergency escape route somehow without breaking her neck or falling seventy feet outside the H.Q. building), clears her throat loudly. “Is um, _anybody_ going to answer my question?”

Right away, Tae-Hyung springs into action, nearly leaping two feet into the air as he screams in near hysterics, “Joo-Hyun- _noona_ , you won’t believe what Jung-Kook – “

_Not if I can help it!_

Just as Tae-Hyung’s feet make contact with the pristine floor once again, Jung-Kook reaches forward to curl his arm around the overly excited shoulder. Casually so, but with enough force to ensure that Tae-Hyung was still a good eight feet away from the now terrified-looking woman. “Look. You _can’t_ tell her.”

“Try me, Kook,” he snarls in return.

“Save my ass,” Jung-Kook adds quickly, tightening his hold around the fidgety blonde. “And I’ll give you my two tickets for the latest contemporary art exhibition held at the _Dongdaemun_ Plaza. Entry this Friday evening at seven o’clock after a delectable, delicious dinner in a high-class, four-star restaurant. The perfect remedy for that workaholic not-girlfriend of yours who never takes a break. Bail me out. And it’s yours.” He pauses, sniffing dramatically. “For _free_.”

Tae-Hyung sounds awfully suspicious when he questions, “… _Really_ now?” And while he has all right to be because of reasons like Jung-Kook not being the most upright person out there and is, more often than not, up to no good because of his natural rebelliousness, stagnating his elders’ dysfunctional workplace romance is something that the young man can never do. He can complain about Tae-Hyung’s googly eyes as much as he wants, but at the end of the day, he does want to see their _some_ succeed as much as everyone else.

(Especially Seung-Hwan: the certified hopeless romantic who drowns herself in angst and slow-burn romance fan-fiction when she thinks nobody else is watching.)

“Nothing but the best – “ Jung-Kook pats his palm against Tae-Hyung’s chest as a form of reassurance. “For the _bestest, loyalest_ **_bro_**.”

(Okay, look. No need to call him out. He knows it’s not a word.) 

Tae-Hyung sighs. Once. And then, twice. But it doesn’t take much hesitation after that for him to whisper back defeatedly, “You definitely owe me.”

“And I do,” Jung-Kook confirms with a nod. “Two tickets. On your desk by the end of the day.”

“Um, if you two don’t mind," Joo-Hyun interjects timidly, desiring nothing more than the quietude of her private office. "I’d like some clarification on what you two are whispering about.”

“A-ah, my apologies, Joo-Hyun- _noona_!” Jung-Kook announces boldly, giving Tae-Hyung a good shove. The poor boy nervously stumbles over his two feet, but he manages to catch his balance just before he collides into Joo-Hyun completely. Oh, but to collapse into the slim, svelte physique of the famed Bae leader. Wouldn’t _that_ be a marveling sight to behold? “Tae-Hyung- _hyung_ has something to tell you!”

And without anything else uttered, Jung-Kook turns swiftly on his heel, paying little attention to Tae-Hyung's nervous ramble that seemed to jump from the works of Choi Jung-Moon and Lee Jee-Young to his favourite cuisines (French and - oddly enough - Mexican? What a strange dude.) It's not like he wants to stay and eavesdrop on their potential plans -

Or, you know what? **_Just_** this once.

"I didn't know you were a fan of contemporary artists, Tae-Hyung." 

"Ah. Y-yeah, I am!"

Jung-Kook rolls his eyes. Lies. He only follows whoever Joo-Hyun likes. 

"I see. That's - " She pauses, digging the heel of her shoes against the ground. "Great. I like people who I can discuss art with."

"Then, h-how about - we talk a little bit more over a coffee when you're um, on your break today?"

Jung-Kook can hear the shy smile in her voice as she says, "That would be nice." 

And he, in turn, grins as well.

**_Success._ **

Now, to make sure that tickets haven't sold out yet. Or, if they _were_ sold out, ~~blackmail~~ find a legitimate ticket reseller online. That shouldn't be too hard, given his proficiency with a keyboard. 

* * *

So, there’s that. Jung-Kook managed to escape trouble twice in a single day, all in thanks to Yoongi _and_ Tae-Hyung. 

But now – _now_ is where the test truly begins, because performing recon on a skilled target like Kim Ye-Rim isn't exactly a walk in the park. She'll find out in no time if he had wire-tapped her phone calls (not that he's actually seen her making that many in the first place), or installed spyware onto her personal devices. Not only is that a rookie mistake that he would except a newcomer to commit, but agents are also supposed to perform their duties with flair, style, efficiency, and - most important of all - secrecy. That definitely wasn't it.

He frowns, stretching his arms for a moment before folding them together. Maybe this wasn't going to be as straightforward as he thought.

Still, the first step to any kind of surveillance is information gathering, and if there's one thing that Jung-Kook can confidently say that he's good at in the context of surveillance, it's his ability to dig up everything and anything imaginable. And when he says this, he means this quite literally, because he managed to discover several months after working with B.T.S. that Nam-Joon once held a second identity as an underground rapper called R.M. 

Evidence to back up his claim? A rather raunchy mixtape track titled Expensive Girl. Needless to say, Nam-Joon shut his trap right after that. Good call on his part, really. 

When it came to Kim Ye-Rim, though, the girl was like a walking, talking riddle. A complete enigma, shrouded in mystery as if it were a thick fog.

A first glance at her profile - with a rather...attractive headshot, mind you - tells Jung-Kook her vital statistics, like her height (five-foot-one...and a quarter), her date of birth (a ninety-nine liner, but completely lacks the finesse that TWICE's Tzuyu carries when the latter is performing on stage), her birthplace with the accompanying birth certificate (Seoul - well, _duh_ ), her weight (to which, Jung-Kook doesn't really care about some damn arbitrary number that fluctuates from a single trip to the bathroom), and any illnesses or medical conditions that she may have. Jung-Kook's somewhat relieved to find that there's nothing there - and given her age, that should be a given.

It's not that he's worried about her. Hell, no. It's just that he doesn't want to be held accountable if, in the case that the pair were sent off on a reconnaissance mission and she fell gravely injured, he had to personally go and tell her parents that he didn't take proper care of her and he'll be weighed down with this guilt for the remainder of his life. 

But that's another thing, too. He's flipped through the pages: left and right; back and forth. Seriously, she had _nothing_ to report regarding extended family? Granted, it was a recruit's choice whether they wanted to add in that information during the recruitment period, but for the most part, they did. Many of these individuals were minors, after all. And hell, that Kim Donghyuck kid couldn't stop jabbering about how he had the most gorgeous twin sister on his first day of training. Admittedly, it does strike Jung-Kook as somewhat odd, but he reminds himself that whatever dark past or tragic childhood Kim Ye-Rim has is none of his damn business.

What did matter, however, was whatever happened commencing now. And that's exactly what he's doing at nearly nine o'clock in the evening: clicking through some of her training clips and watching with vague interest.

Speaking objectively, Jung-Kook admits that Kim Ye-Rim's the entire package for a secret agent. So, it's not that big of a surprise as to why she would've managed to capture Joo-Hyun's eye. The hand-to-hand combat training showcases her ability to think quickly, as well as her nimble agility as she swiftly swerves left, right, left, right before delivering a stunningly powerful uppercut into her opponent's protected chin. Her footwork could use some revision (as he has tiredly attempted to point out one too many times), but at the very least, she managed to muster enough strength in that one jab to knock them onto the floor. Talk about being a fucking tank. 

Not only is she an excellent, vicious attacker, she's also great with her stamina and defense. The next clip highlights her, running through an obstacle course with Lee Donghyuck and Mark Lee, trekking through muddy swamps with thirty pounds of gear on her back. And much to his surprise, her team actually completed it in a record-breaking twenty minutes, narrowly beating his time of twenty-two. No doubt about it: she's got it all - 

And that is precisely what irks him the most. Kim Ye-Rim, being an absolute know-it-all, pretending she knew all there is to know with her innate talents whilst dismissing every form of well-intentioned criticism he had. And to make matters worse, she even had the nerve to tell _him_ off for having an inflated head when she should be using her free time to enhance her skills to the best of her ability? Having known first-hand the tragic consequences of failing to do a task perfectly the first time around, the last thing he needs is - 

Jung-Kook shakes his head. Now isn't the time to be reminiscing. 

"Face it. You're just jealous that she's stealing your thunder, aren't you? The famous Jeon Jung-Kook is getting knocked down a few pegs, fading into absolute obscurity, by this feisty newcomer who seems to have a natural knack for this, whereas you actually had to prove yourself that you were made for B.T.S.?" A voice suddenly rings out in the pitch-black darkness teasingly, causing Jung-Kook to nearly whistle out a girlish squeal. Look, bravado aside, he's also got his fair share of phobias: invisible voices from spectral beings included. 

But of course, phantoms don't exactly exist. And nor are they capable of switching on lights. 

" _Aish_ , _hyung,_ " Jung-Kook groans, rubbing his chest soothingly as Jimin walks into view. Whatever thoughts he had been ruminating dissipate immediately as he takes in the appearance of his fellow member. The older man's chiseled jawline is flaked with dried mud and his forehead is beaded with sweat; clothes soiled with dark, crimson-red stains that smelled horrifically like copper. Seulgi stands beside him, wearing a welcoming smile whilst wiping dried blood off her hunting knife. From the looks of it, they didn't return from their recon mission without any casualties. "You two would make the perfect horror movie psycho couple looking like _that_ , you know?" 

Seulgi ignores him. "So, are you working hard, Kookie? Seems like you'll have your hands full with the six-page weekly reports you have to submit to Nam-Joonie."

"Or," Jimin adds slyly with a wink as he removes his gun holster. "Hardly working?" 

"It's not like that," Jung-Kook retaliates defensively, pressing pause on the video. "A job's a job. And she's just one job that I have to - work through, that's all."

"I don't think you're doing that great of a job, then," Jimin snorts.

"Uh-huh. And why's that?"

"Well, guess who we happened to come across when we were just returning - " 

Seulgi doesn't even need to finish her sentence: Jung-Kook's already swiveled around in his chair. His fingers make light work on the keyboard, and in a matter of moments, his desktop screen is occupied with grainy surveillance footage of two individuals. One, a tall, lanky young boy donning round-framed spectacles and the second, a short, hooded figure that Jung-Kook immediately recognizes, thanks to that worn-out Sungkyunkwan University hoodie. 

"They're - " The younger man seethes, watching with livid eyes as they escape through the emergency exit stairwell. "What in the _hell_ are they doing?!"

"We trailed after them a bit," Seulgi says. "They didn't get _too_ far and they're not really doing anything other than breaking curfew. Just the nearby 7-11 - "

A few seconds of rapid-fire typing later, the screen pulls up to real-time imagery of Lee Donghyuck and Kim Ye-rim, seated side-by-side and looking particularly chummy inside the dimly-lit convenience store with their hands wrapped around plastic containers of ice-cream. Ye-Rim, however, appears particularly sullen as she digs a gigantic hole into her cup. Probably venting over the day's shenanigans -

(Wait, that includes _him_ then, right? He should've wire-tapped the convenience store when he had the chance, damnit.) 

"Having ice-cream on a Monday evening," Jimin mutters unhelpfully.

"I can tell, _hyung_. And FYI," Jung-Kook retorts. "You're **_NOT_** helping!"

"Oh, my God, Jung-Kook- _ah,"_ Jimin scolds with an eye-roll. He gives his tense colleague a light shove on the shoulder. "Lighten the fuck up. Don't tell me you never snuck out with your friends to chill. They're people too, okay? Not programmed robots or soldiers that you command." 

"I never did," the younger man states stiffly.

"Well," Seulgi chimes in with a slight giggle. "Aside from that time when Jae-Hyun successfully convinced you to take the Friday evening off to see Epik High with him."

"A-and even if I did," Jung-Kook adds, completely embarrassed over the fact that he forgot that entire evening where he got batshit drunk whilst screaming out the lyrics to Love, Love, Love alongside Tablo. "Th-that's - " 

"Different?" Jimin snorts. "No, sir. Nothing different about that." 

And while there's more that Jung-Kook would've said on the matter, he doesn't.

What he _does_ do, however, is end up scrawling on a tiny post-it to himself:

_'Favourite ice-cream: Haagen-Dazs' black sesame.'_

(And for the record, it's not because he cares about her likes and dislikes.

He just - appreciates her taste in dairy-based desserts.

That's all.

Again, professionalism. That's all there is to it.)

* * *

When Jung-Kook wakes up, he's fucked - for a multitude of reasons.

A) He fell asleep at his fucking desk, watching clip after clip of Kim Ye-Rim demonstrating her capabilities (not many cons to report, sadly enough), and his forehead landed perfectly against the keyboard;

B) He now has three perfect square indentations imprinted against his skin;

C) His first progress report is flooded with nothing but A's, L's and M's (he curses the gods for giving him such a damningly big head); 

D) The first person he saw when he opened his bleary, crusty eyes was Yoongi - and that's already a gigantic scare in of itself, because Yoongi is never punctual, so this must mean that he over-fucking-slept, and -

E) Oh, my God. _He fucking overslept_. 

F) Which also means, he's late. By a good ten minutes, too.

And finally, G) he has to greet Kim Ye-Rim, wearing his smelly training clothes from the night before. With the added bonus of being late. 

He groans. What _joy_. 

Miraculously enough, Jung-Kook manages to pull himself together in five minutes. Even if he does have to show up wearing day-old clothing, at the very least, he should look refreshed and not like he just rolled out of bed. Plus, he doesn't want to get reprimanded for having tuna breath. 

The minute hand hits twenty by the time he makes it to the Central Wing of the B.H. headquarters. Twenty minutes late - great. For a Tuesday morning, the wide, pristine lobby is packed with people: higher-ups rushing to get to their daily conferences. Despite that, though, Jung-Kook immediately locates his target standing at the receptionists' desk. She's quite easily recognizable with the light-brown hair intermingled with light streaks of lavender. Although, hang on. He looks her up and down. What in the _hell_ is she wearing? Is that - a fitted pantsuit? Is her hair actually styled into a neat-looking ponytail rather than its typical rats' nest? And why is she carrying a damn briefcase?!

Upon first glance, she may seem prepared and completely at peace. But her body language - the tense back, the nervous tucking of her hair behind her ear (only to fail spectacularly as it falls out of place and cascades down the side of her face), the shifty gaze this way and that - says otherwise. A complete fish out of water. Despite her anxiety, she does look _somewhat_ decent. Pretty, even, with that polite smile set on her face while making small talk with the receptionist. 

But this is Kim Ye-Rim.

And Kim Ye-Rim deserves no compliments regarding her appearance. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Jung-Kook stalks towards her in heavy footsteps and when he's within proximity, he calls out, "Ye-Rim- _sshi_."

Ye-Rim whirls around, but her eyes are flinted with displeasure. But of _course_ , even in a foreign environment, she'll never hesitate to unleash her feisty inner savage when it comes to him. There's a lack of friendliness and cordiality in her voice as she tells him disapprovingly, "You're late." 

“I’m – “ Jung-Kook narrows his eyes. But how can he even retaliate when he knows it's damn true? “I know.” He’s sorely tempted to give her a piece of his mind by saying, _who was the one who forced me to operate at one o’clock in the morning, watching you and your lover-boy share ice-cream sundae cups and secrets?_ He decides against it, however. This is a professional establishment, either way, and making a scene here in front of this crowd is not worth tarnishing his reputation even more. 

"And hey," she adds, gesturing to his day-old get-up. "Aren't you wearing - ?" 

Must this pipsqueak always be this observant? At the very least, it'll come in handy if they were ever asked to complete a mission together.

Jung-Kook sighs. "I _know_."

"What in the hell were you even doing that you couldn't change your attire?" 

"Forget that," he says sternly, hoping for dear life that she wasn't hovering away due to the stench. "May I remind you, today is the official start to our partnership - "

"Not that I have a choice in the matter," Ye-Rim spits through gritted teeth. "However, if this is what it takes to improve my chances of joining R.V.-S, then so be it."

"Hmm. Very good." Sharp memory she has. Or perhaps, would this be called, 'strong motivation'? Probably both. "You remembered."

She nods curtly. "Of course." 

"I can see that you're also quite - dressed up for the occasion."

"Well, you didn't exactly _tell_ me what we were doing," Ye-Rim points out. "I wasn't sure what our first day was going to entail, so business casual, it was. Just in case I have to meet - important people."

 _Huh, that's not a bad idea._ And who knows? Maybe having her meet Joo-Hyun would knock some sense into her and make her smarten up - and in short, cause less trouble in the foreseeable future. 

"Let's get you acquainted then," Jung-Kook says finally after a moments' hesitation of deliberation. And he gestures towards a tightly-secured door, locked with an immaculate facial recognition mechanism that hissed to a slow open. Ye-Rim glances at him briefly, her large eyes flashing for a single second with uncertainty. 

To which, upon noting her stare, a challenging smirk graces his lips and he says, "Welcome to B.T.S."

* * *

_INTERLUDE._

_(2)_

For seven-thirty in the morning, Tae-Hyung's extremely edgy. He's shifting around in his seat like there's no tomorrow, shuffling his binders here and there while letting his paperwork do a dainty dance in the air. Ho-Seok glances at his desk, exhaling a breath in displeasure. No matter how many times he attempts to organize his seatmate's table, it'll always fall victim to the natural state of disorder. Why does he even bother trying to fix a naturally messy person when it's all for naught? He's too soft-hearted for his own good.

And it's precisely this softheartedness that has him asking from afar, " _Yah_ , Tae. Are you looking for something?"

"Uh, yeah," Tae-Hyung replies, distracted. "Did you happen to see a pair of tickets on my desk?"

Ho-Seok blinks. "Tickets? For _what_?"

"Don't ask too many questions," the younger man replies snippily, letting a textbook on the basics of coding fall to the carpeted floor with a loud thump. "Just - did you see two tickets?" 

"I can't help you unless you _specify_ what the tickets are for - "

"It's for his date, Seok," Yoongi chimes in at last, grumpy and irritable. "My **_God_** , you're slow on the uptake."

"I am _**NOT**_!"

"Well, you definitely are," the lethargic blonde grumbles. "Because what else does Tae talk about in his spare time?!"

"Well, ex- _ **CUSE**_ me because I actually have work to do and I'm not sitting on my ass all - "

"TICKETS!" Tae-Hyung wails hoarsely, banging a fist against the tiniest square inch of space left over on his desk. " ** _TICKETS!_** "

And Joo-Hyun - despite being separated by two hallways and a soundproof wall - suddenly stops writing her notes, questioning for a brief second whether someone had dragged their dying pet into work for their annual and rare Bring-Your-Pet-To-Work week. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my dear readers: 
> 
> I'm so sorry that this chapter took a while, but I hope this eight-paged chapter delivers. As you can probably tell, Jung-Kook himself has a reason for behaving the way he does towards Ye-Rim - but, only time will tell as the story unfolds and you gradually understand what happened in the past! Plus, Ye-Rim's mysterious background as well - I hope you all are excited for what's to come! :) 
> 
> In the meantime, thank you very much for your patience as I slowly but surely work through the chapters. Just as a heads-up, I will be returning to school full-time in September, so updates MAY be sporadic, but I promise you, I won't leave this story unfinished. :D 
> 
> And last but not least, thank you again for reading and I'll see you next time! Take care <3!


	4. YR.

Ye-Rim’s heard it through the grapevine plenty of times that the higher-ups at B.H. had invested – not just a million, no, that number is just small fry – over a trillion dollars to manufacture a state-of-the-art facility for their most prestigious infiltration teams. Not only was the workplace to be equipped with the most advanced, up-to-date equipment ‘known to humankind’ (which is saying a lot, and Donghyuck curiously questioned whether they had signed a twenty-page NDA with Samsung to get these installed), it was to be furnished with fancy, high-end furniture, a cafeteria that served only the finest with the freshest ingredients, and (supposedly) living quarters that would’ve put Ye-Rim’s dingy den and her uncomfortable four-poster to shame.

Nothing but the best for their best, they had proclaimed. And Donghyuck had announced carelessly that he would do anything to get his hands to spend one morning, tinkering with their new gadgets – 

“Literally, Rim- _noona_. **_Anything_**.”

“Give Mark a kiss, and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

While Ye-Rim – after cracking such a crass joke that had left both youngsters arguing over the best lip balm brands (seriously, did those crackheads have nothing better to do?) –simply snorted and turned away, choosing to help herself to more high-fibre oatmeal instead.

She’s just not a materialistic person, and she most definitely could care less about baseless rumours like this – even if, _yes_ , she loathes to admit, watching the construction of the gigantic glass skyscraper - built with bulletproof glass panels, shimmering like a towering, glinting diamond - extending forty stories into the cloudless skies that could overlook the entirety of the Yongsan distract _was_ rather impressive. She would kill to have an office space up there. All to herself, blasting whatever music she wanted, installing whatever game consoles she wanted without having a certain _someone_ dictate her money-spending habits (a la, the dumb, toothy rabbit lookalike who needed to learn the hard, hard lesson of silence is golden). 

But gorgeous views of the flickering cityscape aside, Ye-Rim has reminded herself time and time again that she didn't sign up for this life to bask in the glory of fancy electronics or minimalistic, roomy apartments.

“Welcome to B.T.S.”

Until now, that is. Because it’s true what they say. When B.H. audaciously declared ‘nothing but the best’, they absolutely meant it. A literal dream come true for any budding agent-to-be – and now, Ye-Rim realizes why Donghyuck had badgered her to no end during their late-night adventure, making her promise (after getting on his knees, the poor, deprived soul) that she would spill the beans on what she saw.

She won’t disclose much more other than this: being a full-fledged secret agent was most _definitely_ a major step-up from the pained, struggling trainee life. 

(Like, seventy-thousand steps up.) 

At first, she sees white. Nothing but white, and she briefly wonders for a moment whether this entire scheme was a well-laid trap and her fellow colleagues were going to jump out from their hiding spots, jeering at her for believing in such a ludicrously told lie. But once her eyes manage to adjust to the sheer brightness of the vast hall, she realizes, no: whoever the interior designer/architect was, they just had a thing (or, would she daringly call it an unhealthy obsession?) for the brilliant shade.

She sees it splashed across the walls, the ceilings, and every touchable surface imaginable. Ye-Rim unconsciously grinds the base of her worn-out heels against the grayed carpet sitting underneath her feet, because the last thing she needs is Jung-Fucking-Kook telling her off for soiling the glossy marbled flooring. Pristine, spotless and immaculately cleaned; brilliantly lit by the combination of natural lighting seeping through the glimmering window panes and luminous fluorescence hanging above her head in elongated tubes that spanned the entirety of the roof. And is she seeing things, or is that - ? 

"One caffe latte for our next-best field lady," a smooth, velveteen tenor tone sings out crisply. "Easy on the foam. No whip." 

Oh. God. There's even a _miniature coffee bar_ perched to the side. And the two baristas manning the booth - stylishly dressed to the nines, with matching hairstyles that looked as if they were ripped right off a budding male idol group members' head while being handsome to boot - don't just look ready to brew a latte with their dexterous fingers; they also look equally ready to jump out of helicopters and fire bullets if needed. That's B.H. for you, Ye-Rim surmises grimly as she continues the trek forward. Nobody's admitted into the top league without having the highest qualifications - even if their primary job was to draw elaborate latte art and write cute, encouraging messages on the compostable coffee cups. 

In spite of its stark minimalist design (with the unorthodox placement of a tiny coffee shop, of all pretentious things that they could've installed into the lobby), it still manages to scream sophistication. Adding the incredible vastness of the room? Well, it's enough to swallow her tiny being whole and make her feel petite. Like Alice in Wonderland - except, this isn't a phantasmal world built on talking animals.

This is reality.

She spins around clumsily on her heels, trying to take in the sights of everything within a thirty-second timeframe. The glass panels seemingly come to life in a matter of milliseconds, displaying an array of complicated data that Ye-Rim can't exactly decipher just yet: something about a substantial decrease in the number of attempted terrorist attacks from the preceding years, splayed out in a bar graph. She would've examined it deeper, but it quickly dissolves into a bunch of pixelated black squares.

Navy-blue velvet recamiers are positioned squarely against the sides of the wall, equally spaced apart - some were occupied by what Ye-Rim guesses to be secret agents from different units that often collaborated with B.T.S. - if she remembers correctly, there was a time when S.V.T. and G.F.E.N.D. had provided combat assistance for a particularly difficult assignment several years back.

Most are too preoccupied with whatever they were doing to pay any attention to Ye-Rim, but as she continued her steps deeper and deeper into the interior of the hall, the steady _clack-clack-clack_ from her shoes seem to draw their inquisitive eyes towards her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches a duo - a young, pale-faced woman and a messy-haired man with deep-set eyes and a chiseled jawline - exchange a few inaudible words with each other. Something claws at Ye-Rim's stomach nervously, and her grip on her briefcase tightens ten-fold. She's the odd one out, for sure.

Their curiosity, however, is short-lived the moment they realize _who_ was trailing after her.

Jung-Kook automatically clears his throat - neutral and noncommittal - and provides a short, quick response. 

"New trainee." 

"I have a _name_ , you know," Ye-Rim hisses (hopefully only to herself). "And it's Kim Ye-Rim."

"Before that," Jung-Kook retorts back through gritted teeth. His pace increases slightly, and Ye-Rim feels the back of her neck tense up an incredible degree as he whispers dangerously, "You _are_ a trainee. Your rank and your identification number come first. Acknowledgments come second. Don't be presumptuous, even if your skills _do_ excel your current colleagues right now. Because never forget: there are plenty of others who can overtake you before you can even fucking _blink_." 

_Huh. Apparently, he's also got the hearing of a bat. Noted._ She stays silent, continuing the incredibly awkward walk ~~(of shame)~~ down the hallway. To her right, a series of perfectly-taken headshots piques her interest. She pauses for a moment, taking a brief moment to inspect the meticulously arranged diorama. It's not that she's particularly intrigued by history, but she ought to have basic knowledge of who her potential employer is. The founding father of B.H. - the legendary Bang Si-Hyuk, wearing rounded spectacles whilst carrying a heavy double chin - sits at the top of the hierarchal pyramid before branching off into organized rows upon rows that consisted of his skilled subordinates.

Despite having retired from fieldwork and was said to be basking in sunshine on the peach-coloured sand in the Maldives every second weekend, he naturally still holds the greatest amount of power in the entire organization: calling the shots for promotions where necessary; reprimanding his subunit leaders on any fatal mistakes committed.

An anxious shiver runs through Ye-Rim's spine. Despite the picture-perfect smile, intuition tells her that this is _not_ a man to trifle with. 

A gentle nudge from behind snaps her back into reality as Jung-Kook grumbles, "Keep walking, Ye-Rim- _sshi_. That's enough gawking for one morning."

And Ye-Rim, slightly startled, stammers quickly, "R- _right_." 

Now standing side by side, Jung-Kook casts her a devious crooked smile, to which Ye-Rim returns it with an unfriendly chagrin of her own. Clearly, he's pleased that she's starting to lose her composure - and in the fucking lobby, no less. She's got to get a grip on herself; there's nothing exciting about tempered glass, or velvet cushions. The real excitement comes later, when she actually has a chance to tour the headquarters, (hopefully) meet Bae Joo-Hyun and pick out her weaponry for whatever Jung-Kook has planned to monitor her progress. "Cat's got your tongue, huh?" 

She shakes her head, firmly so. No way is she showing signs of weakness over a beautifully-designed antechamber. "Don't be so certain. I'm just getting warmed up."

"Hmm."

At long last (after what felt like a pained silence of ten minutes, even though realistically, it was only three), they finally reach the end of the reception area. A gigantic floating staircase sits before them - comprised of plexiglass and contemporary wood - before dividing into two separate pathways. Even without any signage, Ye-Rim surmises that it must lead to both R.V.-S' and B.T.S.' separate workstations. Not _too_ much of a surprise that they would be close, both in proximity and in relations: the two sub-units were B.H.'s all-stars and shared a mutually beneficial yet cohesive relationship with one another, often characterized by skillful teamwork, team interdependence, and fruitful results from their missions with little to no major casualties. For example, B.T.S. often lacked sizable manpower in the field; R.V.-S would provide additional assistance with one of their best operatives, Kang Seulgi. Rumour has it that she's been getting slightly chummy with one of B.T.S.' more flirtatious members, but hey, so long as they kept their private affairs behind closed doors, who has the right to complain? And in places where R.V.-S lacked - which was primarily in security hacking and securing information from their most wanted targets - B.T.S. sent over two of their best I.T. brains for back-up.

Admittedly, collaborative partnerships and teamwork were Ye-Rim's forte. She works brilliantly with people who treated her with the same level of respect (a la, Mark and Hyuck - look, best friends _count_ , okay?), and contrary to popular belief, she's not against learning new things or gaining knowledge from experts who specialized in topics that she knew nothing about - but _not_ if she's being forced to work with _Jeon Jung-Kook_. 

But hey, whatever it takes for her to get to work with the cream of the crop. So long as she remains laser-focused on her goals and doesn't purposefully get on Jeon Jung-Kook's nerves (and if he can also oblige to that with a certain degree of cordiality), then...all should be well.

(Right?

 _Right_.

...It's not a convincing argument, to say the least.)

"Well, that was a rather nice tour," Ye-Rim comments dryly, doing her best to remain as unsarcastic as she can (because really, what in the fuck did he even do? Some mentor _he's_ turning out to be). "So, where are we off to now?"

"Introductions with the team." He clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth, announcing, "Let's go. We shouldn't keep them waiting."

Like it was said before, Ye-Rim is fearless. Daring and intrepid. Not easily fazed by the simple things. But even so, there's no way she could deny the rapid flutter that her heart performed in the base of her chest when they ascended the staircase. And the moment that Jung-Kook presented his ID card against the scanner - with the mechanical doors sliding to an agonizingly slow open - she braces herself, unconsciously holding her breath all the while.

"A bit of advice so you don't keel into me before we even make it into HQ: don't deprive yourself of oxygen. We need you conscious." 

_Jackass._

Ye-Rim doesn't let up, anyhow.

* * *

  
The thing is, gossip tends to travel fast, especially amongst this particular batch of recruits. Ye-Rim doesn't quite know why when there were so many other things they should be doing (ahem, ahem, those homework assignments would like to bid hello) - maybe they just thrived on rumors, or maybe it's an ingrained characteristic of those teetering between the Millenials and Gen X. It's no wonder so many of them are choosing to specialize in recon and surveillance after they graduate, really - they're killing two birds with one stone by putting their strengths and quote-unquote ' _hobbies_ ' to a high-paying job.

Ye-Rim chooses not to engage in such frivolities for obvious reasons already mentioned, but even with her adamant stance against rarely-harmful, mostly-amusing libel, that didn't stop her from interrogating the shit out of Donghyuck on who in B.T.S. she had to look out for - 

("I thought you weren't ' _into_ ' that type of stuff."

"I'm not. But let's put it this way, Hyuck: you're helping advance poor, sweet _noona_ 's career - "

"Sweet?!"

"As this ice-cream that I just bought for you. Do me a favour, yeah?")

And needless to say, Donghyuck gave her a very, _very_ in-depth lesson that she'll have to repay in due time.

The seven members in B.T.S. were as follows. First, the dignified leader, Kim Nam-Joon, who inhaled tea as his form of sustenance for heavy morning workloads, not coffee, and always left the office the latest, despite retiring from fieldwork several years prior. Most importantly, however, he had personally scouted Jeon Jung-Kook to join the ranks (way before graduation too!), and was supposedly a prominent older brother figure to her mentor.

("You ought to get in good graces with him, Rim- _noona_. He probably writes the most fantastic reference letters.")

Second: Dr. Kim Seok-Jin, a young, resident physician who also held a Ph.D. from the esteemed Seoul National University. Not much of an operative due to his lack of physical stamina (apparently), but his expertise is definitely needed since he's an absolute 'Gods' Hand' when it came to stitching up wounds. Ye-Rim's not much of a biology nut herself - sans knowing that blood is the very essence of life and that a loss of 40% or more of this vital fluid could render her dead immediately - but she'll appreciate the innate talent that Hippocrates had blessed upon him (not to mention, hard work and dedication) when it should be recognized. Word on the street, though, was that Dr. Kim thought _very_ highly of himself, especially with regards to the looks factor.

("He gives himself an eleven out of ten.")

Well, Ye-Rim sniffs, _she'll_ be the judge of that. 

Third and fourth were Min Yoongi, and Jung Ho-Seok: semi-retired field agents now turned I.T., combat and training specialists. Ye-Rim sees Instructor Jung on the daily, and my God, does he make an impression. He's a bit too jovial at times, laughs a bit too hard when mingling with the younger trainees who try to kiss his ass but scarily enough, can also perform a one-eighty and scold the absolute shit out of the recruits on critical mistakes that could've cost them their lives had it been a real-life situation. Not that Ye-Rim actually _has_ experience with that side to him - she nailed her exercises with ease. Yoongi, though, was a slight enigma: not one for talking, supposedly; prefers sleep over any form of social interaction -

("But I heard that he has a soft spot for R.V.-S.'s Seung-Hwan- _sshi_.") 

And at last, there was the trio dubbed Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest: Park Jimin, Kim Tae-Hyung and - surprise, surprise - The One She Despised. She didn't need much of an explanation for the latest addition to the surveillance team, considering how much she already loathed his guts and was more than willing to accept that nickname without much argument or evidence needed. 

("Okay, but why are _those_ two called Dumb and Dumber?"

"Oh, _noona_. You're in for one hell of ride.")

And you know, she didn't believe him at first: the ludicrous stories of Jimin flirting up a storm with pretty-looking recruits (but would always, always, always trot back towards Kang Seulgi at her beck and call), and the even more silly anecdotes of Tae-Hyung expressing admiration and (perhaps unrequited?) love for Bae Joo-Hyun during work hours. Like, that was just pushing the unprofessionalism - surely, it couldn't be _that_ bad. 

* * *

  
" _Yah_ , _yah_ , _yah_ , Tae-Hyung- _ah_!"

 _Now_ , though. Now, she believed him.

The moment the pair enters the workspace, Ye-Rim's eyes immediately glue themselves towards a flurry of multicoloured binders hurtling towards their direction.

"Look out!" Jung-Kook orders, giving her a rather gruff shove to the side, and sure enough, the files fall down to the ground with a rather deafening clatter on the exact spot where she was standing just mere moments ago. Ye-Rim blinks, watching the chaos before her grow increasingly catastrophic by the second. She doesn't know where - or who, exactly - she should be gluing her eyes on:

The weirdo with the blonde bowl-cut, dressed like a 19th century Englishman, wailing something about tickets to the D.D.P.?

The snapback-clad one, wearing headphones and an exasperated expression that read ' _kill me now_ ', had his arms crossed against his chest and was doing absolutely nothing to diffuse the situation whatsoever? 

Instructor Jung, grasping for the bowl-cuts' bolo tie, screaming, "STOP IT, TAE! YOU'RE SO EMBARRASSING!", and "HOW ARE YOU ALREADY IN YOUR TWENTIES AND STILL ACT LIKE THIS?"? 

The one with the side-swept undercut, who has looks more suited for an idol boy group more than anything (and that jawline too, chiseled by Jesus himself), cackling while clutching his sides and looking near-ready to keel over from dying of laughter? 

Or perhaps, Jeon Jung-Kook: palming his forehead, questioning all of his life decisions made then and there, just as an exhausted, heavy " _Fuck me_ " escapes his lips. His original plan of intimidation is backfiring spectacularly, and Ye-Rim couldn't be more gleeful. The taciturn line on her face curls into an amused smirk as she asks lightly, "So, you guys host frat parties in here on the daily?"

"Oh, plenty," Jung-Kook snaps. And it seems that her teasing had done the job, because it was then that he chose to step forward and - after inhaling briefly - shouted, " _YAH!_ "

Nobody - and she means this quite literally- is moving a muscle. Everybody freezes. The only person daring to move is Instructor Jung, turning his head just a tiny smidge to watch Jung-Kook. Indeed, there's no denying that her mentor carries a commanding, charismatic presence - but is this actually him being commanding and radiating leadership ability, or were they just terrified from the potential backlash of a hot-headed spitfire who had anger management issues and exploded at the slightest inconvenience? A part of her - the rebellious, no-nonsense, take-no-shits side is egging her to keep it up, keep riling him up - but then another part of her - the responsible, vying-for-a-career-after-graduation side advises against it. 

She wisely decides on the latter. 

"Great, got everybody's attention now?" Jung-Kook flicks his arm towards her, and all four pairs of eyes zone into her curiously. Under normal circumstances, she would've reverted to the shy, guarded, and self-conscious persona that she often put up in front of strangers and acquaintances. Yet, seeing them like that just now - well, it's not like she can erase that chaotic image from her head any time soon now, can she? "Anyway - starting today, Trainee uh..."

He's drawing a blank when he was the one who emphasized how her name is practically meaningless when she's an underling. _Pathetic_. "Double zero, one-seventy-two," Ye-Rim finishes lamely. "Trainee double zero, one-seventy-two." She bows towards the quartet, letting a small smile peek upon seeing Instructor Jung give her a friendly wave. Of course, she was the classroom favourite. 

"Yes. She'll be under my mentorship for the next three months. I'll be monitoring her progress during lectures, classroom exercises, paperwork and - " He pauses. "Upon completion of any missions or assignments that I believe that she's capable of performing successfully with my guidance." Shifting towards her, he adds cautiously, "We have great expectations for you. Surely, you won't let us down."

 _That sounds more like a personal threat than anything else like I could potentially ruin a promotion, but okay._ Ye-Rim nods, determination flaring in her eyes as she states, "I'll do my best. And - it's very nice to meet all of you. I'm looking forward to working and learning from everybody here."

Now, it's not like she expected applause or anything. She's there to work her ass off for recognition, but she's also not exactly surprised when a hand - gruff, calloused yet still somewhat flirtatious in manner- smoothly takes hers for a handshake. It's none other than the notorious Park Jimin. 

"So, **_you're_** the girl. Well, we've heard quite a bit about you already," he says with dazzling charm. The crescent-moon eyes that he's spouting at her, in particular, are doing a fantastic job at pulling her in. He's got a natural weapon at his disposal - she can't say that she isn't jealous of his innate ability of cute persuasion. "And aren't you just the most adorable thing, too? I should definitely stop by the trainees' quarters more often, and maybe I can coax Nam-Joon- _hyung_ to fire Jung-Kook since he's not doing that great of a job so that I can take over instead."

Both individuals speak at the same time, albeit with different responses.

"Um - "

" _Yah_."

And expectedly, Jimin ignores both of them. "So, tell me Ye-Rim- _sshi_ , where would you prefer to meet? In the computer labs? The armory? The gun range? Outside? Wide in the open without _anybody_ to disturb us?" His voice - playful, coy and sultry all at once - ignites a strangely pleasurable sensation within Ye-Rim that makes the hairs on the back of her neck rise. "The sparring arena? Let me know. I'm a master of many, and we can set a date - " 

"For one thing," Jung-Kook interrupts at last, grabbing ahold of the older man's shoulder before Jimin could continue to babble on and on and on (or, inch any closer towards her, really, because as nicely-scented as he was, Ye-Rim doesn't want to be responsible for the potential break-up of a budding relationship). "You should know better than to fraternize with the subordinates, Jiminie- _hyung_. And look, Seulgi- _noona_ isn't going to be too pleased with your antics when she hears about this."

"Not like I'm doing anything in particular, but my, my, something must be getting underneath your skin, hmm?" Jimin retaliates, stepping away briefly - only to reach forward once more and tuck a piece of stray hair behind the internally flustered Ye-Rim's ear. "Anyways, it was merely a suggestion, considering you seemed particularly peeved yesternight - " 

"I am _**NOT**_ peeved," Jung-Kook snipes, looking increasingly infuriated with each sarcastic jab hurled towards his direction.

"And who knows?" The older man continues to sing, dancing circles around Ye-Rim dizzily. "There's too much testosterone on this team already, anyway. We ought to shake things up a little - "

" _Shut_ it!"

"I'm sure Nam-Joonie- _hyung_ wouldn't mind. _He_ could appreciate a cute girl among our ranks."

"T-this - " Jung-Kook splutters. "Has nothing to do with that! Appearance and capabilities are not mutually exclusive!"

Unabashed as Ye-Rim is, even she thinks that the suave operative is pushing her mentors' buttons a bit too hard. "I'm sure it's not in my position to say anything, but I absolutely agree. And that's enough now," she says firmly. It's not like she's standing up for Jung-Kook per se, but it's _true_ : being an attractive being might give a field agent an extra edge when it came to the art of interrogation, but there were plenty of others who didn't fall under that particular category of beauty and still excelled in their respective fields. 

Ye-Rim also doesn't miss the way Jung-Kook cocks his head towards her, surprise written all across his face, as she questions challengingly, "No reason to put down your fellow agent like this." Because as much as he probably deserves a good slice of humble pie, this definitely wasn't the way to do things. "Isn't it?"

But Jimin isn't perturbed in the slightest - in fact, her worrisome words seem to encourage him to antagonize the seething youngster. His grin widens even further, spreading from ear to ear, as he says merrily, "I think it's a bit too late for that, Ye-Rim, my dear. But!" Hazel eyes alight, Jimin suddenly snaps his fingers together as if he had just discovered the most brilliant idea known to mankind. "Why don't you prove us wrong, then?"

She's not quite understanding what he means, so all she can muster is a quiet, "Ah, I'm sorry?"

"How 'bout it?" Jimin presses. "A little good-natured sparring between mentor and mentee, and we can settle the matter right here and right now."

Their reactions are - explosive, to say the least.

"What?!" They exclaim simultaneously. Ye-Rim nearly trips on her feet clumsily, while Jung-Kook looks near-ready to knock the lights out of Jimin. "N- _now_? H- ** _here_**!?"

"As they say," the cheeky man begins. "All is fair in love, war, and hand-to-hand combat training."

"I don't think that's how the quote - " 

_Shit_.

And at last, Ye-Rim realizes _exactly_ what was going on now. She exhales a shaky breath, as does Jung-Kook. Exchanging brief looks of irritation. God, how could she - _they_ be this dim? He was toying with them, as they fell right into his carefully cultivated trap like greedy mice enticed by cheese. And on the first day of the job, too. 

(Some agent _she's_ turning out to be.)

But whatever. If they wanted a show, then she sure as hell was going to give them a show. And Jung-Kook definitely didn't seem like one to back down from a challenge like this, either. 

"Fine," she agrees at last. "But Jung-Kook- _sshi?_ Don't you dare hold back on me."

"Likewise," he says, stretching his arms and back. "I won't be going easy on you either."

* * *

INTERLUDE   
  
_(3)_

It's about fifteen minutes after the pair had separated to prepare for the upcoming match. Amongst the quartet, Jimin looked extra elated - the other three, however, were severely, incredibly disappointed. 

"That's a real bad call, Chim," Ho-Seok chides. "You know how sensitive Kook gets when you compare him to other people, and especially her, of all people!"

"Hey, the showdown of the decade was bound to happen sooner or later, my man," Jimin argues. "We can't miss the show - besides, I'm just giving enough content for Jung-Kook to write for his reports. How else will he fulfill that three-thousand-word quota if I - certified best _hyung_ \- don't help out once in a while?" 

"Correction," Yoongi says with a roll of his eyes. "Worst _hyung_."

"My apologies, but isn't best spelt ' _b-e-s-t_ '?" Jimin corrects huffily. "I know my English."

And apropos of absolutely fucking nothing, Tae-Hyung whimpers sniffily, "...I still want my tickets."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends,
> 
> It's definitely been a long while, and my apologies for my prolonged absence so I hope this 4k chapter suffices for now, haha. 
> 
> First off, I hope you guys have been doing well and have been staying healthy! Unfortunately, things have been rather slow on my end with writing as I've been back in school and there's very little time for leisurely writing. :'c Hopefully, I can get back to it starting February forward, but also no guarantee - but again, as I said in my last A/N, I will not leave this story unfinished. :D 
> 
> While the year definitely wasn't one that we expected, I really hope that 2021 is a vast improvement for all of you guys :3 Please continue to be safe, be healthy and I hope that you all get to achieve all the things that you set out to do. I'll always be here rooting for you! As always, take care, and I'll see you next time!


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